


Love is Takikomi Gohan

by Arlana



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: And Kawanishi is a wannabe house husband, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Kawanishi Cooks, M/M, Not Beta Read, One Shot, Post-Time Skip, Shirabu is a long suffering med student
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:14:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27902086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arlana/pseuds/Arlana
Summary: Love can find itself in many ways. But it often takes form in the littlest things done on a day-to-day to show appreciation for a loved one.
Relationships: Kawanishi Taichi/Shirabu Kenjirou
Comments: 6
Kudos: 33





	Love is Takikomi Gohan

**Author's Note:**

> Was going to post this on KawaShira day but decided to take a poll and see if I should post this earlier since I have another fic in the works and want to post that soonish.
> 
> I've somehow never really written these two and that in of itself is a crime since I love their dynamic and how effortless it can be.

Shoving his key into the lock Shirabu wearily unlocks his front door. He barely musters enough energy to push the door open, wanting nothing more than a hot bath and to maybe cuddle up in bed and sleep for the next day and a half.

“I’m home.” He announces, toeing off his shoes and putting them away like a proper adult. The bag he was carrying slips to the floor and Shirabu kicks it into a corner, deciding that he'll pick it up later.

“Welcome home.” Comes the slow, drawled out reply from the direction of the kitchen, the faint scent of cooked foods wafting toward the entrance.

His feet move on their own accord, automatically guiding him forward in search of the voice.

Their home smells like fresh cooked rice and miso soup. The familiar comforting scent of fragrant starchy rice and mild kombu and miso wrapping around him like a cozy blanket, reminding him of holiday and weekend trips back to his parent's when they were in high school and eating his mother's delicious home cooked meals. All the stiffness and tension in his shoulders melt away as his stomach produces a low growl.

Shirabu is greeted with the sight of Kawanishi dressed in lounge wear and an apron standing over a simmering pot, ladling the soup into a tasting dish. He gently blows a cooling breath over the steaming liquid before taking a delicate sip. His lips quirk up on one side, a sign that he is pleased with the result, before setting the lid atop the pot and turning off the burner, moving on to stir at something in another pan.

“How was work?” Kawanishi absentmindedly inquires, poking at the contents of a nearby bowl with his chopsticks.

Shirabu settles into a seat at the dining table where utensils sat in waiting, watching in mild fascination as Kawanishi flitted around the kitchen, pulling out ingredients and throwing things into bowls, “Horrendous. Why did I decide to be a med student again?”

“Because you wanted to make the world a better place?”

An ugly sound escapes Shirabu, “That doesn't sound like me.”

“Well then, it’s probably because someone once insinuated that you’d be a shit doctor and you're too petty to let it go. Even when the person probably doesn't even remember the comment now.” Kawanishi expertly folds what looked like mushrooms and other undisclosed ingredients into the pot of fresh rice, mixing it thoroughly before pouring in some sort of sauce. “Dinner will be out in just a second.”

“Do you need help?”

“Nah, I got it.”

Shirabu continues watching in silence, a small fond smile playing on his lips as he observed the way the other would plate up all the food in various little dishes, meticulously checking that every last bit was _just_ right. Despite what anyone might have assumed from Kawanishi's lackadaisical nature, he was actually more than proficient in the kitchen. Having picked up a few things from the local izakaya he had worked at in college to support himself as well as learning how to cook to save money on eating out.

A piping hot bowl of miso soup is set in front of Shirabu, followed by several other side dishes ranging from a small salad to other cooked vegetables and of course grilled salmon. Suspiciously, the first thing that should have been served—the rice—was still missing.

The answer to the mystery comes in the form of a bowl with a heaping serving of takikomi gohan, mixed with mushrooms and plenty of shirasu.

Shirabu's favourite.

Raising a brow curiously, he bites back a comment as he regarded Kawanishi carefully. Who was still in the midst of bringing out his own food to the table and settling down across from him without another glance. They clap their hands together and simultaneously murmur a _itadakimasu,_ before picking up their bowls and chopsticks—Shirabu eager to taste the undoubtedly delicious creations in front of him.

Kawanishi watches attentively as Shirabu takes a bite of the rice, his own bowl untouched as his chopsticks hovered over one of the plates.

“This tastes like…”

“Your mom’s?”

“Yeah…how did you?”

He shrugs, “I called to ask her this morning before I went to the store. It’s probably not the exact same but I think it’s pretty close.” Despite his nonchalant attitude Kawanishi does not meet Shirabu's eyes and there is a faint twitch in the hand grasping his chopsticks. As if the itched to run through his messy hair or scratch at his neck.

Shirabu makes a light humming sound, eyeing the other up and down before huffing out a soft, “Sap.”

“Yeah yeah.”

He easily polishes off the bowl and asks for seconds.

After dinner Shirabu treats himself to a long, _long_ soak in the bath—bath salts and all—whilst Kawanishi cleaned up.

When he emerges refreshed and feeling decidedly much more human, he finds Kawanishi scooping ice cream into a bowl with two spoons sticking out the side.

“Thanks for dinner,” he reiterates, warm and still comfortably full from being spoiled with all his favourite dishes and even a good well-deserved glass of beer.

“No problem.” Kawanishi replies, putting away the tub and leading the way to the living room, where a movie was already pulled up on the television, “You’ve been a mess and looking like you needed some comfort food.”

Frowning, Shirabu follows closely behind, “And what, pray tell, does that mean?” he lightly kicks Kawanishi's leg as he settled down beside him on the couch, snagging his spoon and licking the cool treat off it.

Kawanishi levels at flat stare back at him, “You’ve been stress eating my stash of mint chocolates.” 

Not being one to admit when Taichi had indeed made an astute observation—mostly because he thought he has been sneaky about it—Shirabu defiantly raised a brow, “And? Maybe I’ve acquired the taste for them.

“Kenjirou, you _hate_ that shit. You can’t even stand the scent of a peppermint mocha. You're like an actual baby when it comes that stuff.”

“Am not.” Shirabu huffily mutters, cheeks puffing up a little as he bristled. Kawanishi blatantly ignored the response.

“The world might as well be falling to pieces if you've resorted to eating that.” He was unfortunately—and annoyingly—correct. Shirabu hated the stuff with a passion, but, there was something about stress that triggered his sweet tooth and they hadn’t had anything else on hand since Taichi had yet to go grocery shopping again.

“Whatever. Just start the movie.” He mutters out, leaning into Kawanishi's shoulder.

°°°

“Oi.” Shirabu groans, swatting away the hand prodding at his shoulder. “Oi, Kenjirou,” the hand unfortunately returns, “wake up.”

Whining Shirabu cracks open an eye, coming face to face with Kawanishi, leaned over him and hair dripping water onto their floor.

“Wha—Taichi?” he slurs, squinting as his eye are assaulted with light, blinking away the bleariness and sluggishly sitting up.

“You fell asleep. Get up and go to bed, I’m not carrying you to your room.”

“You’re a horrible boyfriend.” He gripes, standing and allowing himself to be tugged toward the hallway where their bedrooms awaited.

“Yeah, yeah. You say that every time.” They come to a stop at Shirabu's door, where Kawanishi's arm is begrudgingly released from its hold.

Without another word Kawanishi leans down to press a soft and chaste kiss to Shirabu's lips.

“G'night.”

“Good night.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading and please feel free to leave a kudo or comment! ♡
> 
> Find me on Twitter: [@Arlanaaaahhhh](https://twitter.com/arlanaaaahhhh)


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